


the fear a fallin apart

by thescyfychannel



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-19
Updated: 2013-10-19
Packaged: 2017-12-29 15:54:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1007272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thescyfychannel/pseuds/thescyfychannel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's descended from the terror of the seas, and he build ships in his mind.</p><p>For a moment you're guilty, thinking of what he could have become.</p><p>And for a moment, you pity him, thinking of what he became.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the fear a fallin apart

**Author's Note:**

> _This is gospel for the fallen ones_   
>  _Locked away in permanent slumber_   
>  _Assembling their philosophies_   
>  _From pieces of broken memories_
> 
>  
> 
> — This is Gospel, Panic! At the Disco

Nubs is going to make a fine threshecutioner some day.

In fact, all of your dancestor's fronds seem a shell of a lot betta than she reelizes. Seariously.

But apparently she didn't appreciate them enough, and APPARENTLY she failed to take control of the game early on. Leaving control to any troll related to Kankri Vantas seemed like a bad move at first, but then you'd actually met the kid, and your respect had risen up a notch. So it was possible to spawn a useful Blood player after all.

Still, that was the only good decision she had made. As adorable as Feferi was, she'd overlooked a good deal of talent, and let it go to waste. A potentially brilliant...legislacerator, they called it, now completely broken, and a purple blood gone full-on psycho murderclown were among the few trolls left alive. And she had somehow let her Ampora get out of hand. Not to mention mini-Serk, whose brilliance Feferi had obviously overlooked.

Which meant it was up to you to see what you could salvage from this codawful shipwreck of a session.

 

It was in that panframe that you came across the ship.

The ship wasn't that much bigger than a troll, made up of lines of light and color, a glittering matrix that hovered in the air just in front of mini-Ampora. He stood there, his eyes shut tight **—** the way Cronus's usually where when he was concentrating on something. The construct wavered, as if it couldn't decide what it wanted to be put to use for, sailing or stars. Then his eyes snapped open and he threw his hands into the air and the lights and colors expanded outward, growing larger and larger.

You were standing inside a constellation of Eridan's making, a ship made of stars. Completely entranced, you reached out to touch the nearest line **—** and the whole thing collapses into stardust, scattering around you in soft spirals and arcs before it's picked up by the breeze. He's standing in the middle of it all, face upturned as the wind sweeps the field clean.

 

"I'm gettin' better at holdin' it in my head," he says, and you realize that he's noticed you. "But seein' as it's made a hope an' I havven't much a that, it always falls apart fast." Mini-Amp **—** _Eridan_ , you think, turns towards you. He's ditched the cape somewhere along the way, and the part of your brain that sounds like Aranea mentions that mini-Porrim wound up using it as a bandage. Maybe he'd rather not dream up another for fear of jadeblood stains?

"That's shella dumb. If it's YOUR conchstuct, then it otter listen to YOU." You flick some stardust off of your shirt, and notice the slight frown that's reappeared. He'd looked almost happy when the ship was up. "...anywaves there's no shame in naut being perchfect at what you do. Conchsidering that you just START-ED usin' your )(ope-ship, there's no sense in beatin' yourshellf up over it."

He tilts his head at you, the slightest glimmer of a smirk reappearing on his fishy face. "WWas that meant to be a pun or an actual descriptor?" You blink at him for a minute, confused, and he grins. "Hope-ship."

That floors you. You hadn't even caught that one yourself, and mini-Ampora's stupid grin is eerily reminiscent of what Cronus used to be. "If you don't know, I ain't shellin' you anyfin." And he grins again, and you roll your eyes, waving a hand at the sky. "Can you do it again? I'm thinking that we cod get it seaworthy. Make it reel, you know?"

Eridan nods and cracks his fingers. "There's no wway I could make her real yet, but I might be able to hold the image steady a bit longer." He lifts his hands again, eyes shut, and concentrating. You're about to say something, but he's talking to himself, words without sound, as his fingers flick through the air. Didn't he have rings? Or did they interfere with his "hope" as much as the cape might?

 

It looks like he's trying to play one of those old wriggler games with string, only the lines he makes glow and stretch, shifting and moving around him. Some of them pass through you, and it's like a cold dive and a hot shower all at once, and you shudder involuntarily. Is that what hope feels like to him?

"You need to movve twwo steps to the right, Peixes," he says, with his eyes still shut. You take a step to the left. "An' noww it's three steps to the right. Hurry up."

Huh. That's useful information that you file away for later. Three steps to the right, and Eridan spreads his palms wide. Instead of exploding outwards, the ship expands slowly this time, shimmering and shining. Was this something that Cronus could do? Or...maybe it was something he did and never mentioned. "I thought you were the Prince of )(ope oar somefin, since when can you make stuff like this?"

The construct shatters _again,_ and you curse yourself for stupidity. He doesn't look at you as he reaches a hand out to catch some of the falling light. "I wwanted to see if it wwould wwork. An' it turned out that wwarships an' their ilk fall under destruction through hope. It's a loophole."

 

For a moment you stare at him. He builds ships with his dreams. Shore, you've heard enough of his tale from Serket to learn that he was obsessed with genocide. But all of his plans fell through. And it was what society expected of him, being the descendant of the Orphaner Dualscar (a name which is entirely too badass to ever TRULY apply to Cronus in your mind). A Prince who wanted to build things.

And for a moment you actually felt guilty for the scratch. For undoing everything these kids had done and been. They had lives, they had histories, and you took that all away from them, for what? The sake of winning a game? A few thousand sweeps more of troll society that had been twisted into the world that you'd want?

 

Then the moment passes and you stride up to mini-Ampora and sling an arm around him. "So Nubs has dibs on head threshecutioner, but the fleet alwaves needs commanding officers." After all, it's your job to salvage whatever you can from the shipwreck called Alternia.

**Author's Note:**

> _And truth be told, I never was yours_   
>  _The fear, the fear of falling apart_
> 
>  
> 
> — This is Gospel, Panic! At the Disco
> 
> This story was written as part of the Askblog Stories Project, as a gift for beekwhy, who runs http://ask-that-aquarian.tumblr.com
> 
> Song: http://wholetjackdrive.tumblr.com/post/62275261027/this-is-gospel-panic-at-the-disco-first ((This Is Gospel (Round) - Panic! At the Disco, edited by wholetjackdrive))


End file.
